


Commander of the Grey

by escapay



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grey Wardens, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Warden Cousland (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 15:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19403632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapay/pseuds/escapay
Summary: "She won't get into all the subsections and additions and distractions that have slowed down her journey, but she must also remind herself that those things have helped her gather support, allies, wealth, rations... both to destroy the blight, and flick Loghain Mac Tir off the throne. The things she has stopped to do have helped people who needed it. When the days become longer and their journeys become more dangerous, she finds that the Maker has a rotten sense of humor. She takes care to not mention it around those who could not bear to hear it, but it gnaws on her some days to know that she has had time for everything but her family. For everyone but herself."A character study of Nimue Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and the reflections she makes as their quest progresses.





	Commander of the Grey

There are things that remind Nimue Cousland of home.

They are sometimes wonderful things, like a good nuzzle with her mabari, or a meal that smells almost as good as Nan's. Sometimes the way her armor fits, or the pride that swells when she looks at her father's sword, at her family's crest on her shield.

Sometimes they aren't. Sometimes it's blood and tears and corpses, sometimes it's the loud marching of armies, sometimes it's nothing but silence. There are things she has forgotten that she will never forgive herself for forgetting: the lilt of her mother's voice during a specific conversation, and the reason her father had to coax her down from a tree, and the exact warmth of their voices.

She remembers other things, and they matter too. Every time she looks in the mirror she sees her mother's white hair on her head. Her father's eyes on her face. And it will have to be enough for now, because she barely has time to mourn them before she is thrust into a role she never asked for. She will always be grateful for Duncan; she is not so naive as to think he did it all to conscript her. He was a good man, and now he is dead. She barely had time to mourn him, either.

But then again, she barely has time. King Cailan is dead, Loghain Mac Tir is a traitor, and she finds she and Alistair are easy targets for the Teyrn of Gwaren. Or what is it he's calling himself now? The regent. Her country is in shambles, she cannot contact her brother, and along the way she has picked up the sorriest band of allies she's ever seen.

She loves them all.

She loves Morrigan, whose dry humor and sparkling wit are a gift, despite her bitter pettiness, or perhaps because of it. She loves Leliana, who is dedicated and righteous and whose heart is boundless with love and faith in spite of the way life has treated her. She loves Wynne, who is wise and gentle, firm and kind; who cares for others and smiles knowingly at their secrets. She loves Zevran, who is dinner and a show; who is loud and flirtatious, and quiet and serious. She loves Shale, who is practical and brash and opinionated-- especially against those winged beasts--and hilarious. She loves Sten, despite his harshness, because of his honor and responsibility and sense of duty. She even loves Oghren, who is sometimes not much more than a drunken beard with legs, but who fights with strength and determination, who deserved much more than he got.

But most of all, she loves Alistair, who makes her laugh and who answers her questions and who would follow her into the deep roads. Alistair who is silently mourning also, who was an orphan before her, who is confident and bashful; dutiful and selfless. His smile reminds her there is perhaps an entire life waiting for her, if they live.

(Should she add her dog to this list? It feels wrong not to. Some days, Boo fights better than Alistair, though she would not tell him that.)

Nobody here is perfect, and sometimes they can't agree. Sometimes their choices weigh heavy on her, and sometimes she tires of splitting arguments apart. But they are all heading towards the same goal. Her to-do list is remarkably long, and it grows longer by the day. But she knows the most important things:

  1. Stop the blight and kill the Archdemon
  2. Get Loghain Mac Tir away from the crown (she's certain her life may depend on it)
  3. Find Fergus
  4. End Rendon Howe's existence



She won't get into all the subsections and additions and distractions that have slowed down her journey, but she must also remind herself that those things have helped her gather support, allies, wealth, rations... both to destroy the blight, and flick Loghain Mac Tir off the throne. The things she has stopped to do have helped people who needed it. When the days become longer and their journeys become more dangerous, she finds that the Maker has a rotten sense of humor. She takes care to not mention it around those who could not bear to hear it, but it gnaws on her some days to know that she has had time for everything but her family. For everyone but herself.

One night, after returning to their camp, she washes the dried up blood that has caked on her body. Some of it is the blood of mortal men, some is the blood of demons, and a lot of it is the darkspawn's. She often leaves Boo behind now, not being able to justify risking her warhound's life. Right now, he is her family and he depends on her. He lies down by her side, sleepy, as she cleans her armor. She has time for this too, she thinks angrily. Sometimes she wonders if she is selfish for enjoying her time with Alistair. Morrigan and Wynne both have mentioned things to her she knows to be true. It is not the time for romance.

But she thinks she deserves one thing for herself. _One_ thing. Just one. She is not asking for much, she thinks. In between the fighting and leading and resilience and so much death, can she not have _one_ thing? She can. She cannot bury her parents, and she cannot ruthlessly end Howe just yet. So she does what she can; what she should; what she ought to. She has been forced to make choices that weren't even hers to make.

Her choices have kept people alive. Her choices might doom them all. But she cannot run, and she will not run, because who else will end this blight? In the end, she knows everyone else could leave. But she and Alistair cannot. This is their duty. the moment she survived her joining, she signed herself to this cause. And it is a worthy cause, and though her father had not initially approved of her interest, she knows he would be proud of her now, and the way she carries herself; the way she fights; they way she speaks; the way she treats people. She misses them so terribly her heart aches. She misses Nan, she misses Gilmore, she misses Aldous. She misses Oriana and she misses Oren so much it feels impossible. Fergus is alive, but he is so far away.

On nights like this, she wishes she was not carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. The future of Ferelden lies in her hands, and she cannot wish it away. Even if she could, she does not think it in her to bind someone to this fate. She can only ever try her best and hope that all of her is enough.

She looks up at the stars and remembers Alistair's words from before.

He had compared her to the rose he took from Lothering. "How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and loneliness?"

She does not feel very much like the rose. But she is hopeful that one day she will feel less like she belongs in the hellish landscape that surrounds them. When the blight is gone, and Loghain is deposed, and Howe is brought to justice, and... there's a lot of ands there, aren't there?

So when Alistair joins her, striking up conversation, she lets herself enjoy it, and enjoy him. She smiles and she means it, she laughs and it makes all of her shake. When Alistair holds her hand, she threads her fingers through his. He is the only person she knows who understands. Wynne has nothing to worry about. Neither one of them will lose sight of their goal. They know what must be done. So what if along the way there are lingering gazes and soft touches? She cannot stop herself from feeling love. Not towards her _friends,_ because that is what they are now. Not towards this makeshift, dysfunctional family, and not towards Alistair.

The Maker smiles down on them, Leliana tells her, for no sacrifice is greater than theirs. She knows this, and as she kisses Alistair, she reminds herself... She can have one thing. They can have just this one thing.

There is so much darkness that surrounds them, and even when it is gone, she knows her oath:

_In war, victory._

_In peace, vigilance._

_In death, sacrifice._

**Author's Note:**

> I've been re-playing Origins on my laptop as of late, and it is such a gift of a game. The whole series is. I opted for the female noble origin, since I decided I wanted to see her be queen again. The more I play this game, the worse I feel for the poor thing.


End file.
